Friday, June 16, 2017

First Draft Friday: Romance

First Draft Friday

Trying out a new idea for a post series where every Friday I post a rough draft. In my mind, this will something similar to my NaNoWriMo post but maybe less intense and only one day a week. The purpose is the same though: to encourage other writers. More often than not, we only get to see a finished polished version of fiction writing and it's very easy to get discouraged by their quality, even though we know, logically, whatever we're reading has a horrible first draft too. In my first draft posts, I want to share my first drafts as they are written more or less out of my brain. I say more or less because if I wrote the first draft longhand, then I'm usually going to clean it up a little bit or make all new mistakes or bad decisions as I type it up.

first draft, incomplete, 727 words
By Stephanie Thompson

That was all she wanted in life. What she's always wanted.
She knew it wasn't like aKethryn Heigel movie or a Meg Ryan movie or even an Audrey Hepburn flick. She wanted that Old School romances Wuthering Heights, Romeo and Juliet . . . something else. Where being in love was torturous, physically hurts, only short bursts of passion - whether sex or violence, then everyone dies in the end. Where love's drawn out will they won't they magic and both is impossible.That's what she wanted. So how did she put that in a profile blurb?
She'd date plenty but nobody just right. Nice people, funny people, dumb people but not magical people. Not violent, terrible love people.
And now she was in Starbucks at 2 or 3 in the afternoon, at whatever times moms were picking up kids these days and trying to muster one dazzle in he lifetime before closed up shop and resigned herself to being the single friend. Always avail; able for dinner, for movies and shows, wine weekends and plus ones. Which was fine of course. It was her life, she loved her friends but she needed. . .
Well if she knew what she needed then her dating profile would already full of  all the right words.

What am I looking for: Something Different

There was no reason she should notice this profile. Jack needed the date, it was his search, his computer. Plus she hated vague shit. So many guys said they were looking for something different and she was always like - If you can't define it, why the hell should I?

"So what do you think of this one?"
"I mean, I could be something different, right?"
"Dude, what's this . . . whos' this chick?"
"Uh. . .Mister105 . . . I don't know there is no real info here."
"And the pic?"
"Just the one/"
"With her face half behind her hair looking the other way? I mean what'st he point?"
"Well you have to have the one picture at least. . . to have a profile, you know."
"So you're asking what I think about the girls who put up the bare minimum and can't even define what she wants?"
"This is balls." He pushed the laptop away from him , the screen facing her. "I mean I don't know. What did they do in older times, like when you were in the dating scene."
She  scoffed but was only half paying attention. Omly half paying attention because the woman in the laptop was staring at her.

She was still staring @ her later that night. After Jake closed the laptop and put on a movie and fell asleep half way on the couch.

Her silky brown hair half covered her face and she was turning away from the camera, the start of a smile on her face, a light in her eyes. Dylan HEather could already feel her hand on hers pulling her someplace secret, someplace magic.

Hello Mysterious, I could be something different. -H

The message from HEath312 was better by miles than any other she'd gotten. First Heth 312 got her screen name which no other man had. Second his message was more than just Hey, Hi, or a dick pic. finally, his screen name was Heath, like the stars of their tortured love were already aligning.

She hit reply.

It took her took weeks to write five words. To be fair it took her most of the time to decide to join the site then pick the picture then finally send the message. And most of 'sending
 the message involved writing/deleting and rewriting until five words were all she could manage.

Heather's heart pounded when she got the notification.

H- Different is as different does. What's the most interesting thing you've ever done? - Mysterious

She didn't want to respond right away - too worried she wouldn't say something clever, or interesting enough but she also didn't want to leave it too long and lose out on the flutter in her belly and the flush in her checks. Should she be naughty and ask 'clothed or naked/' Should she indicate her party level and ask 'drunk or sober?" Or should she just answer it plainly enough? But then what was the most interesting story she had to tell? She'd met Mitch Albom once at a book signing but that wasn't interesting per se, just a brush with fame event.

I definitely want to finish this one but the 'I don't know what is intersting/witty/clever enough' dilemma that Heather's facing is identical to my own writing dilemma. Thus the story is paused at the moment.

Thanks for reading!